The Scars Jaune, The Scars
by tomweaverdrums
Summary: Inspired by a story written by Operator Blake. Jaune's in the infirmary after his meeting with Cardin and Pyrrha is trying to understand why he kept the things from her that he did.


**Hey guys, I wrote this as my interpretation of what the second chapter of a story written by Operator Blake, which you can find here:** **s/11174824/1/Scars, would be. In sticking with the original the chapter isn't very long but I may update it based on the reaction it gets.**

 **If this inspires you go and write something that follows this or ties into this then go ahead, just please remember to credit both Operator Blake and myself. Thanks for reading.**

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He came round in the infirmary, awoken by the king of all headaches. Trying to pull himself into a sitting position sent waves of protest through his tired muscles. Settling for a slouch, he was glad to see that his scarred torso was now covered a hospital issue gown. He sat in painful silence for a few seconds, trying to catch his breath, before he realised something.

He wasn't the only person in the room.

Looking to his right, he saw a sight that set off something deep inside him. Pyrrha was curled up in the corner of the room, seemingly asleep. Jaune stared for a few seconds, not quite understanding what he saw.

"Pyrrha?" He asked, surprising himself with the lack of strength in his voice. She stirred but didn't wake. Trying to clear his throat, Jaune went to call again only to launch into a coughing fit. This had the desired effect and within seconds she had moved from her spot, curled in the room's corner, to his bedside.

"Oh Jaune." She threw her arms around him, trying to blink away the tears that were forming in her deep emerald eyes. "Oh Jaune, why didn't you say something? Anything?" Losing her battle, the tears began to fall, staining the off-white sheets of the bed.

Jaune was beyond confused. What had happened to bring about such a reaction from her? Cardin beat him up all the time. All right he didn't often do it in front of virtually the whole school, and these beatings didn't often end up with Jaune in the infirmary but still, Pyrrha's reaction was confusing to him.

"Pyrrha…" His breath caught in his lungs and sent him into another coughing fit, specks of blood coating his lips. "What are you talking about?" She withdrew from the embrace and looked at him as if he'd stung her. Looking him in the eyes, she took a deep breath and spoke.

"The scars Jaune, the scars. Why didn't you say anything? I could've helped you." Jaune suddenly felt the need to be violently sick. His scars, of course his scars. Cardin had ripped his shirt and everyone had seen. Oh God, everyone had seen! What would they think? What would they say? He wouldn't be able to show his face on campus ever again!

An attempt at speech led to his third coughing fit in as many minutes. Once it had passed, he took the offered water from Pyrrha and took a sip. Staring into the contents of the glass, he caught his reflection.

He looked awful.

His bottom lip was split and swollen, his left eye was surrounded by a deep purple bruise that seemed to hurt more the longer he stared. His left cheek also bore several smaller cuts while his right proudly displayed a gash stretching from just under his eye right down to just above his top lip.

Cardin had got him good.

"Jaune!" Pyrrha's authoritative tone pulled him from his thoughts. Looking to her, he was greeted by stern but loving eyes. She took his hand in hers. "Why didn't you tell me about the scars?" Pulling his hand from hers, he took another sip from the glass.

"It's nothing." He replied, not daring to look her in the eye lest she see past the lie.

"Jaune…" She took his face in her hand and gently forced him to look at her. "I want to help, tell me what happened."

"It's all in the past, there's nothing you can do." He tried to look away but found that he couldn't. Staring into Pyrrha's emerald eyes he saw a multitude of emotions. Sadness, hurt, fear. " _She really is worried about me._ " He thought, mentally scolding himself for being so stubborn.

Sighing both internally and externally, knowing that he now had no choice but to confess all to Pyrrha, he took a third sip from the now near empty glass, set it down on the bedside table and began his tale.


End file.
